


I need help naming this

by HenryMars



Category: The Last of Us
Genre: F/F, FlF, Lesbians, OC X CANON, OCs - Freeform, Original Characters - Freeform, Supernatural Creatures, The Last of Us - Freeform, The Last of Us Part 2 specifically, Yes i just wanted an excuse to promote my work again, also i liked the last of us part 2 fight me, i just want ellie to feel okay again, i should stop writing while intoxicated, im trying to stay in character, like vampires and shit maybe but not really, some ptsd, this also gets really dumb really fast, tw language of course, tw spoilers, what of it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:07:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25022902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HenryMars/pseuds/HenryMars
Summary: In which I spoil the ending of The Last of Us Part 2, introduce supernatural creatures into the world, and give Ellie a new girlfriend. Basically I put anime into a realistic apocalypse game.
Relationships: Ellie/OC (The Last of Us)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 4





	I need help naming this

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have an excuse, I just started writing this. I have no idea how long it's going to take or if I'll end up finishing it so you've been forewarned.

I kill. It’s all I know how to do, really. I grew up in it, in this world where killing is survival. I kill Infected. I kill people. And I kill relationships.

And it’s all my fault, isn’t it? I burn bridges, I destroy and break my own heart. I did it when I went along with Riley all those years ago instead of just staying in my room; she got bit because of me joining her on her adventure through the decrepit mall. I did it when I found out the truth as to why I didn’t die in the Firefly hospital; I _despised_ Joel for taking away my true chance to matter in this decayed and fungal world that is the only reality I have ever known. And I did it when I left Dina to hunt down Abby for the final time. I had a _life._ I built a _home._ And I tore it down for some petty revenge quest I couldn’t even fulfill for killing a man that had become my father and my worst enemy. It seems I’m good at having lives only to destroy them and my friends in the process. The worst part is, I wasn’t even _surprised_ to find the farmhouse empty when I returned, two fingers less than when I started. _I can’t do this again,_ she had said, and that broke my heart, but I rended hers to irreparable shreds as I turned and walked away on a vendetta I couldn't even bring myself to finish.

I can’t return to Jackson. Dina might be there, and the only thing worse than walking away from a grieving wife is to return and have her live in fear of it happening all over again. So I walked. And walked. And walked. I walked away from Jackson County, Wyoming, with no real goal in mind. Stupid, I know, but my life has been nothing but stupid things, hasn’t it? I think I was latently heading towards Washington

I kill. It’s all I know how to do, really. I grew up in it, in this world where killing is survival. I kill Infected. I kill people. And I kill relationships.

And it’s all my fault, isn’t it? I burn bridges, I destroy and break my own heart. I did it when I went along with Riley all those years ago instead of just staying in my room; she got bit because of me joining her on her adventure through the decrepit mall. I did it when I found out the truth as to why I didn’t die in the Firefly hospital; I  _ despised _ Joel for taking away my true chance to matter in this decayed and fungal world that is the only reality I have ever known. And I did it when I left Dina to hunt down Abby for the final time. I had a  _ life. _ I built a  _ home. _ And I tore it down for some petty revenge quest I couldn’t even fulfill for killing a man that had become my father and my worst enemy. It seems I’m good at having lives only to destroy them and my friends in the process. The worst part is, I wasn’t even  _ surprised _ to find the farmhouse empty when I returned, two fingers less than when I started.  _ I can’t do this again, _ she had said, and that broke my heart, but I rended hers to irreparable shreds as I turned and walked away on a vendetta I couldn't even bring myself to finish.

I can’t return to Jackson. Dina might be there, and the only thing worse than walking away from a grieving wife is to return and have her live in fear of it happening all over again. So I walked. And walked. And walked. I walked away from Jackson County, Wyoming, with no real goal in mind. Stupid, I know, but my life has been nothing but stupid things, hasn’t it? I think I was latently heading towards Washington D.C. on some vague inner hope that the capital of the old United States would still be alive after...twenty-five years? It sounds impossible, but so are most dreams of a peaceful society. Trust me, I’ve seen enough of individual civilizations to know that a peaceful one is not possible. As long as two people exist in this world, one will inevitably want to kill the other. And...maybe in D.C., they could make a vaccine like they were going to back in St. Mary’s. My mind flashes to the last conversation I ever had with Joel. How he took away my choice to matter so long ago. If D.C. has the makings of a vaccine -- hell, if they are even still  _ alive _ \-- they could use my immunity to create a vaccine that could change the world for the better. My life would have  _ meaning _ again. I think of Joel again. What he did was selfish, but not entirely. What did that bring me? A chance to live to be twenty, a chance to fall in love, to have my first real drink, a chance to save people, to kill Infected that would have eventually killed another person, a chance to avenge his ass for keeping me alive.

I don’t know where I am now. Our farmland was in the corner of Nebraska and Wyoming, where a lot of farmland thrives. I’ve cut through most of the state, I think. I remember Joel calling this state a “fly-over state”, and I can see why after trekking through most of it in a matter of months. Everything was farmland, but at least that meant I didn’t go hungry, even when I avoided most of the cities and towns I  _ did _ come across. There were Infected too, but also in small batches, easily dispatchable.

When I arrived at a town labeled Tecumseh, I picked up a map, only to find that I didn’t really need one; the fractured road was a straight shot through the town, its only defining feature being an airport with a plane smashed through the building's main hub. I figure it’s as good a place as any to take a few hours to sleep, maybe even a week. There were Infected on one of the planes on the runway, but I took care of them. Some were child-sized, strapped into the bloodied and fungal-infested seats, which made my heart hurt. They would’ve been older than me had they gotten to live normal lives. Maybe they would have made the city a home, trying to rebuild pre-Infected society like the Fireflies. But they could have been like the Rattlers, capturing innocent wanderers and stringing them to pillars or tormenting them with games involving Infected. However they would have grown, they were robbed of the potential, so I still grieve for them.

I settled into sleep that night, and it’s probably the best I’ve slept in a while. I was absolutely exhausted, and it’s a dark and heavy slumber that seems to leave me even more tired when I wake up. I want to go back to sleep; the sun was sky-high in the middle of spring, but I was baking in the metal prison of the plane. I had to leave, maybe take refuge in the actual airport instead, and find a meal too while I’m at it.

It’s not hard to get inside any building nowadays; the overgrowth overtakes basically everything. Branches break windows, roots disrupt tile floors, bushes invade plumbing...it makes me wonder what it must have looked like before Outbreak Day, especially without the giant-ass airplane crashed through the gigantic windows viewing the landing strips. Joel used to tell me of the flights he's been on and how airports used to operate. It seems like such a hassle, and so crowded and chaotic. I probably would have had a panic attack, despite all I've been through,  _ all that I've done… _

The snap of a branch on my way in triggers it. I see the golf club in Abby's mighty calloused hands swing down, splattering bits of skull and brain matter onto the floor. I hear my words,  _ "I'll fucking kill you!" _ echo around the room, and I stop functioning. My legs lose their ability to walk, air stops working, and I'm choking and gasping on dirt and dust as I try to keep myself from collapsing entirely into the shattered combination of linoleum and earth.

_ You're going to fucking die! _

_ Let him go! _

_ Joel, get up! _

_ I can't let you leave. _

_ Joel, fucking get up! _

_ No...I'm not going to fight you. _

_ Joel, please get up... _

_ Yes, you will. _

**_And in the end, I couldn't even do it. I couldn't let another kid's life get ruined by losing their parent._ **

I'm brought back to the present by something furry pressing into my left arm. I look over through tear-infested eyes and see a pure white cat with mahogany eyes that seem...concerned? They emote humanly, and blink while it rubs its head against my arm again. I sniff, wipe my nose and tears on my arm, then shift to sit down. The cat climbs into my lap obediently, and I feel bad for streaking its fur with sweat and grime as I start petting it. We had a couple cats back home-- _ Jackson, not home, not anymore-- _ but dogs were more useful and the cats acted like they owned us rather than the other way around. Y'know, typical cat behavior. This one should be feral by now after living so long in the wild, but it acted...tame. Comforting. It purrs as I stroke its long fur and let my eyes wander. There's a dead rabbit by my feet. Is that the cat's? I reach over to pick it up, but its soft paw bats my hand away. No claws, but still defensive. I don't need to add cat scratches to my list of scars and cuts, so I obey. I stay like that for a long while, letting the adrenaline and upset slip from my system as this sweet wild animal comforts me with rumbling purrs. When I hear footsteps, though, the adrenaline kicks back in, and I dislodge the cat from my lap as I get back to my feet, my hand on Joel's old revolver. They're quick, measured. Human. I don't loosen my grip.

A tall tan man in a tank top veers around the corner, his dark-brown hair flying in a ponytail behind him. His nose and eyes are sharp as they glance over me, and his hand is on an assault rifle, but not pointed at me. On guard. He is also afraid of strangers. As he should be.

His eyes fall on the cat, still by my side.

"Zapped, you were supposed to be back an hour ago."

The cat perks up, tilts its head, then picks up the rabbit and walks dutifully around the corner where he came from. Now the stranger focuses back on me.

"Are you alone?" he asks.

"...Are you?" I retaliate cautiously.

"I have my sisters," he answers. "We're just trying to get to Florida. We don't want trouble."

"Good, neither do I," I reply. "I'm just passin' through."

The man cracks a smile, shouldering his gun.

"Well, Just Passin' Through, you seem hungry, and we can spare a meal."

I can't help myself; I chuckle.  _ Dad jokes _ . I've missed those.

"Well, I have some food, too," I tell him, dropping my hand from my knife. I get the sense I can trust him. "We can share."

"Sounds nice. Follow me."

I keep a distance, but I comply. 

"What's your name?" I ask.

"We can save introductions for when you meet my sisters," he says. "Save some words for when we need them."

Around the corner and the giant wheels of the plane, a small fire had been made beneath the nose. Three backpacks surround it, and one petite girl with raven-black hair stokes the flames to a manageable level, while a lanky white-haired girl with freckles strips the rabbit clean alongside a small pile of animal skins. They both look up as we join them. The black-haired girl has thick bangs covering her other eye, so the only eye I see is a piercing green behind thick black-rimmed lenses that somehow analyze me with a stare that seems a thousand miles away, then snaps back with a smile and a wave. The white-haired girl, on the other hand, gives me a nod of...approval, maybe? Then the black haired girl turns to the other and makes a quick series of complicated gestures, to which the girl nods again and seems to pink a little.

"Pretty sure yer fulla shit, Slicks," I hear her mutter as the man and I officially join the bonfire.

"Guys, this is…" The man gestures to me.

"Ellie," I introduce. The black-haired girl stands up, and she seems too short to have survived this long. She's shorter than I am, and the tall built man beside me looks like he could eat her alive if he wanted to. She scribbles something down in a journal and holds it up for me to read.

_ "Saigun Ardere," _ the first name reads, with an arrow pointing to the man.  _ "Slixer Leonix, _ " says the next name, with an arrow pointing to herself. " _ Enea-Lea Bolston, but she prefers Xapt," _ says the third, pointing to the white-haired girl. I shoot a suspicious look to Saigun.

"You said they were your sisters, but you have completely different last names," I say warily, preparing myself to run in case things went bad.

"It's a...complicated family tree," he says, sitting down beside who he claims to be his sisters. "Xapt and I have the same mother, but we have our fathers' last names, and Slixer's dad married our mother, so, stepsister."

I perk up at another name.

"Didn't you call the cat 'Xapt'?" I ask. "You named a cat after your sister?"

The three of them shoot uneasy and hesitant glances at each other. I've been through enough scenarios to know what this means. I pull out the revolver.

"Alright, no funny shit," I snap. "What's going on?"

Xapt gets riled, snapping to her feet and rushing me before I could pull the trigger. She’s taller than I expected, and her dash is more like a spring as she jumps at me. She slaps the gun from me and tries to grab me, and I pull my knife out in time to ward her off, though I don't get the chance to cut her.

"Xapt! Jesus!" Saigun grabs her before she could make contact.

"She pulled a gun on us!" she growls with an evil glare. Her eyes flash, and I notice they’re gold. "Ain't nobody gon' pull  _ shit _ on my fam'ly!"

"We can just tell her, it's fine!"

"Tell me what?!" I demand, my knife at the ready. Slixer stands up and takes Xapt's hand, looks into her eyes, and tugs her away from me. As soon as she's calmed, I see those golden eyes turn mahogany,  _ just like the cat's. _

Saigun sighs and looks at me like he thinks I think he's crazy.

"We're...weird," he tells me.

"Yeah, no shit!" I yell. "You're acting weird right now!"

"Well, it runs deeper than that." He sighs again and runs his hands over his scalp, as if fortifying himself. "What...what do you know about the Supernatural?"

"I've heard it was a trashy TV show," I shoot, then I stop. "Wait...are you guys--"

"Vampires?" he finishes with a chuckle. "No, but we're in that realm."

"I was gonna say something along the lines of 'batshit insane,'" I say. "Vampires aren't real."

"Well, nobody thought we was gonna get hit with fungus-zombies and lookit what happened," Xapt points out.

" _ Anyways,” _ Saigun interjects, “no, we're not vampires, but they're real, and probably trying to survive just like the rest of us."

"Bullshit."

"It's not, actually."

Saigun moves his hand, and I shoot my knife over to stab him if he tries anything, but he puts his hands up in a peaceful gesture to show that they're empty, though I don't drop my guard. He holds out his palm, and a small flame appears in the center, flickering like a heartbeat.

"Wh--"

"I'm a phoenix's soul in a human body," he explains, "older than half the civilizations around the globe even before Outbreak Day. Xapt's an animal mimic, and Slixer is clairvoyant."

I take a step back. "You're--no, this is bullshit, you have a lighter somewhere--"

Saigun  _ does _ pull a lighter out of his pocket and tosses it to me. "It's empty," he says as I try to light it. The spark flies, but no flame. I shake it, hold it up to the light, and find that he’s right; there’s no oil in the canister.

“...Okay, fine, so say I buy into your shit,” I say as I toss it back. The flame disperses as he catches it and tucks it away. “I’ve...actually, I have nothing. You guys are just...magicians.”

Xapt snorts and stretches. “‘Kay, fine, I’ll show off.” She gets on all fours, and her body twitches. I can see her bones poke around beneath her skin, which is sickening to watch even though I’ve seen worse. Her snow-white hair grows longer, and sprouts all over her arms, covering her clothing in the process. Before I know it, a very familiar white cat sits pretty in the firelight. She preens herself by licking her paw nonchalantly and rubbing it over her ear.

“...Okay, I give. I can’t explain that, but in no way can someone predict the future,” I say in disbelief.

Slixer writes something in her journal, walks over to me, and holds it up for me to read again. Beneath their names are two words that make my heart stop.

_ “You’re immune.” _

I take another step back. “Wh--”

“Okay, she isn’t  _ exactly _ clairvoyant,” Saigun explains, “ but she can see things that other people can’t. Some small future things, but she can read the past, too. She saw yours plain on your face the moment you walked up.”

_ That explains the thousand-yard stare, I suppose, _ I think. The cat takes a stance, and I see the bones writhe beneath her fur again as she reverts back to her human form.

“Man, still uncomfy as hell,” she complains.

“...I...okay, fuck it. Sure, vampires exist and you guys aren’t human,” I concede. Slixer jots something down in her journal and shows me her writing again.

_ “I’m completely human, actually. My siblings are just semi-human. We can all be killed, but we’d prefer not to, in case you wanted to add, “Supernatural hunter,” to your skillset.” _

She gives me a sweet smile. Not demeaning sweet; a genuine endearing smile like a child would give. It’s friendly and accepting. I finally lower my guard.

“Are we ready to eat now?” Saigun asks. “I’m famished.”

“Well, I  _ was _ in the middle’a preppin’ the food, but then someone got a li’l trigger-happy.” Xapt shoots me a look as she sits back where she had been originally and goes back to skinning her...I guess “prey” is a more adept word now. I fetch the gun she knocked from my hand and sit by them all, still trying to settle into this whole “Supernatural” business.

“...So, Florida, huh?” I ask awkwardly, finding nothing else to really talk about that isn’t,  _ “So, you guys are really weird, huh? How’d that happen?” _ . “Lookin’ to sweat your balls off or something?”

“Got family down there,” Saigun explains. “Xapt’s half-brother -- same dad, he took his mom’s last name, in case that comes up -- and his husband and kid.”

“So you guys are from Florida?”

“It’s...complicated. Slixer’s dad was an abusive piece of shit. Our mom tried to get us out of the state and we moved to Aspirations to get away from all that. That was back when everything was still...relatively functional. Xapt was still a baby.”

“How old  _ are _ you guys?” I ask. “Wait, lemme guess: it’s complicated.”

Saigun chuckles. “It’s rude to ask someone their age, y’know,” he says with mirth in his eyes. “But I’m about thirty-two -- in this cycle, anyways. Slixer is twenty-seven, and Xapt...you’re twenty, right?”

“‘Bout there, yeah. Maybe. Time isn’t real when ya don’t have a phone’re calendar ta keep track.”

“I’m like twenty also,” I remark. “Maybe even twenty-one now.”

“Cool, we can have our first drink t’gether.”

“No drinking,” Saigun says, dashing our dreams. “Not while we’re on the road. We have to keep sharp. If-- _ when _ we hit the QZ, we can get something and celebrate our reunion together.”

Slixer signs something, and Xapt snorts a laugh.

“What’s she saying?” I ask.

“She just said she’ll be the designated driver,” Saigun translates. That makes me laugh, too. I can’t imagine someone so small behind the wheel of a car.

“Anyways, I’m heading to DC,” I tell them. “Parts of me still hopes the capital is up and running. I think...I  _ might  _ tell them I’m immune and see if...if maybe I can be of some good to the world.”

Slixer gives me a knowing look, but it’s only a flash of one. She probably knows what I’ll choose when the time comes.

We eventually get the rabbit on the fire, along with a couple rats. It smells great as it smokes.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had rat before,” I comment.

“It ain’t bad,” Xapt says. “It ain’t particularly good, though, jus’ sayin’. But we take what we can get.”

“Is it weird, eating something you can turn into?”

“Not really. It’s about as much as eatin’ another human.”

I feel queasy when I hear that. “You’ve--”

“Not intentionally.” Saigun is quick to jump in. “We ran into a group back in Nevada. They gave us shelter, fed us...and only after we ate did we find out they had killed one of their eldery folk and stewed her. We got out of dodge in the middle of the night...but not without raiding their supplies,” he adds with a smug tone. “They had other food too that they…’paired’ with their meals. And water, of course.”

“Wow, I’m glad I didn’t come across those. I mean, I’ve heard of them but...wow. Sounds like an actual cult. ‘The Worshippers of the Flesh,’ or something like that.”

“They called their capital, “The Temple of Bodies’,” Xapt tells me, “an’ it was made’a actual human bones. Their weapons, too, though can’t blame ‘em; femurs are sturdy as  _ hell. _ ”

“You’ve...used one?”

“Well, sometimes ya gotta use the leg’uva dead Infected ta club ‘nother’un ta death.”

“Definitely not my weapon of choice, but desperate times…”

Slixer started signing something. Saigun translates again.

“Slix says we should travel together, since D.C. is about the same direction, and it’d be awkward to say goodbye and then walk in the same direction.”

I laugh. “Yeah, I think I can stick around for maybe a few days.”

Slixer beams. The food is ready, and we eat and talk as if we’d known each other for years. It was so  _ nice _ to finally speak with someone again after being alone so long, and especially with good people. That sense of running into someone genuine only grows more in certainty the longer I’m with them. They have a good bond with each other; Saigun is like the father figure, Slixer the kindly sister, and Xapt their unruly foul-mouthed uncle. I didn’t even notice the sun go down. I was just...enjoying good company. Relishing the fact that I’m finally not alone again.

“I’ll take first watch,” Saigun volunteers. “It’s been quiet lately, but you never know.”

“Go ta bed, ya did it last night an’ didn’t even sleep t’day,” Xapt jeers. “I got it!”

Slixer signs something.

“But I got the super ears!”

She signs again. Xapt sighs.

“‘Kay, fine. No use arguin’ with ya, anyways.”

The raven-haired woman stands up and moves a little aways from the group. I guess that means she’s taking first watch.

“Are we leaving in the morning?” I ask.

“Not for another day or two. This is to recuperate for a month without proper rest,” Saigun explains. “Gather supplies, hunt--” he gestures to Xapt “--stuff like that.”

“Well, don’t shy away from asking me to help. We’re a team now, I guess.”

“Of course.”

The night is cooler now. The heat from the fire is actually nice now without the sun heating the building from the outside. I lay down with the others and watch it flicker until I drift off to sleep.

D.C. on some vague inner hope that the capital of the old United States would still be alive after...twenty-five years? It sounds impossible, but so are most dreams of a peaceful society. Trust me, I’ve seen enough of individual civilizations to know that a peaceful one is not possible. As long as two people exist in this world, one will inevitably want to kill the other. And...maybe in D.C., they could make a vaccine like they were going to back in St. Mary’s. My mind flashes to the last conversation I ever had with Joel. How he took away my choice to matter so long ago. If D.C. has the makings of a vaccine -- hell, if they are even still _alive_ \-- they could use my immunity to create a vaccine that could change the world for the better. My life would have _meaning_ again. I think of Joel again. What he did was selfish, but not entirely. What did that bring me? A chance to live to be twenty, a chance to fall in love, to have my first real drink, a chance to save people, to kill Infected that would have eventually killed another person, a chance to avenge his ass for keeping me alive.

I don’t know where I am now. Our farmland was in the corner of Nebraska and Wyoming, where a lot of farmland thrives. I’ve cut through most of the state, I think. I remember Joel calling this state a “fly-over state”, and I can see why after trekking through most of it in a matter of months. Everything was farmland, but at least that meant I didn’t go hungry, even when I avoided most of the cities and towns I _did_ come across. There were Infected too, but also in small batches, easily dispatchable.

When I arrived at a town labeled Tecumseh, I picked up a map, only to find that I didn’t really need one; the fractured road was a straight shot through the town, its only defining feature being an airport with a plane smashed through the building's main hub. I figure it’s as good a place as any to take a few hours to sleep, maybe even a week. There were Infected on one of the planes on the runway, but I took care of them. Some were child-sized, strapped into the bloodied and fungal-infested seats, which made my heart hurt. They would’ve been older than me had they gotten to live normal lives. Maybe they would have made the city a home, trying to rebuild pre-Infected society like the Fireflies. But they could have been like the Rattlers, capturing innocent wanderers and stringing them to pillars or tormenting them with games involving Infected. However they would have grown, they were robbed of the potential, so I still grieve for them.

I settled into sleep that night, and it’s probably the best I’ve slept in a while. I was absolutely exhausted, and it’s a dark and heavy slumber that seems to leave me even more tired when I wake up. I want to go back to sleep; the sun was sky-high in the middle of spring, but I was baking in the metal prison of the plane. I had to leave, maybe take refuge in the actual airport instead, and find a meal too while I’m at it.

It’s not hard to get inside any building nowadays; the overgrowth overtakes basically everything. Branches break windows, roots disrupt tile floors, bushes invade plumbing...it makes me wonder what it must have looked like before Outbreak Day, especially without the giant-ass airplane crashed through the gigantic windows viewing the landing strips. Joel used to tell me of the flights he's been on and how airports used to operate. It seems like such a hassle, and so crowded and chaotic. I probably would have had a panic attack, despite all I've been through, _all that I've done…_

The snap of a branch on my way in triggers it. I see the golf club in Abby's mighty calloused hands swing down, splattering bits of skull and brain matter onto the floor. I hear my words, _"I'll fucking kill you!"_ echo around the room, and I stop functioning. My legs lose their ability to walk, air stops working, and I'm choking and gasping on dirt and dust as I try to keep myself from collapsing entirely into the shattered combination of linoleum and earth.

_You're going to fucking die!_

_Let him go!_

_Joel, get up!_

_I can't let you leave._

_Joel, fucking get up!_

_No...I'm not going to fight you._

_Joel, please get up..._

_Yes, you will._

**_And in the end, I couldn't even do it. I couldn't let another kid's life get ruined by losing their parent._ **

I'm brought back to the present by something furry pressing into my left arm. I look over through tear-infested eyes and see a pure white cat with mahogany eyes that seem...concerned? They emote humanly, and blink while it rubs its head against my arm again. I sniff, wipe my nose and tears on my arm, then shift to sit down. The cat climbs into my lap obediently, and I feel bad for streaking its fur with sweat and grime as I start petting it. We had a couple cats back home-- _Jackson, not home, not anymore--_ but dogs were more useful and the cats acted like they owned us rather than the other way around. Y'know, typical cat behavior. This one should be feral by now after living so long in the wild, but it acted...tame. Comforting. It purrs as I stroke its long fur and let my eyes wander. There's a dead rabbit by my feet. Is that the cat's? I reach over to pick it up, but its soft paw bats my hand away. No claws, but still defensive. I don't need to add cat scratches to my list of scars and cuts, so I obey. I stay like that for a long while, letting the adrenaline and upset slip from my system as this sweet wild animal comforts me with rumbling purrs. When I hear footsteps, though, the adrenaline kicks back in, and I dislodge the cat from my lap as I get back to my feet, my hand on Joel's old revolver. They're quick, measured. Human. I don't loosen my grip.

A tall tan man in a tank top veers around the corner, his dark-brown hair flying in a ponytail behind him. His nose and eyes are sharp as they glance over me, and his hand is on an assault rifle, but not pointed at me. On guard. He is also afraid of strangers. As he should be.

His eyes fall on the cat, still by my side.

"Zapped, you were supposed to be back an hour ago."

The cat perks up, tilts its head, then picks up the rabbit and walks dutifully around the corner where he came from. Now the stranger focuses back on me.

"Are you alone?" he asks.

"...Are you?" I retaliate cautiously.

"I have my sisters," he answers. "We're just trying to get to Florida. We don't want trouble."

"Good, neither do I," I reply. "I'm just passin' through."

The man cracks a smile, shouldering his gun.

"Well, Just Passin' Through, you seem hungry, and we can spare a meal."

I can't help myself; I chuckle. _Dad jokes_. I've missed those.

"Well, I have some food, too," I tell him, dropping my hand from my knife. I get the sense I can trust him. "We can share."

"Sounds nice. Follow me."

I keep a distance, but I comply. 

"What's your name?" I ask.

"We can save introductions for when you meet my sisters," he says. "Save some words for when we need them."

Around the corner and the giant wheels of the plane, a small fire had been made beneath the nose. Three backpacks surround it, and one petite girl with raven-black hair stokes the flames to a manageable level, while a lanky white-haired girl with freckles strips the rabbit clean alongside a small pile of animal skins. They both look up as we join them. The black-haired girl has thick bangs covering her other eye, so the only eye I see is a piercing green behind thick black-rimmed lenses that somehow analyze me with a stare that seems a thousand miles away, then snaps back with a smile and a wave. The white-haired girl, on the other hand, gives me a nod of...approval, maybe? Then the black haired girl turns to the other and makes a quick series of complicated gestures, to which the girl nods again and seems to pink a little.

"Pretty sure yer fulla shit, Slicks," I hear her mutter as the man and I officially join the bonfire.

"Guys, this is…" The man gestures to me.

"Ellie," I introduce. The black-haired girl stands up, and she seems too short to have survived this long. She's shorter than I am, and the tall built man beside me looks like he could eat her alive if he wanted to. She scribbles something down in a journal and holds it up for me to read.

 _"Saigun Ardere,"_ the first name reads, with an arrow pointing to the man. _"Slixer Leonix,_ " says the next name, with an arrow pointing to herself. " _Enea-Lea Bolston, but she prefers Xapt,"_ says the third, pointing to the white-haired girl. I shoot a suspicious look to Saigun.

"You said they were your sisters, but you have completely different last names," I say warily, preparing myself to run in case things went bad.

"It's a...complicated family tree," he says, sitting down beside who he claims to be his sisters. "Xapt and I have the same mother, but we have our fathers' last names, and Slixer's dad married our mother, so, stepsister."

I perk up at another name.

"Didn't you call the cat 'Xapt'?" I ask. "You named a cat after your sister?"

The three of them shoot uneasy and hesitant glances at each other. I've been through enough scenarios to know what this means. I pull out the revolver.

"Alright, no funny shit," I snap. "What's going on?"

Xapt gets riled, snapping to her feet and rushing me before I could pull the trigger. She’s taller than I expected, and her dash is more like a spring as she jumps at me. She slaps the gun from me and tries to grab me, and I pull my knife out in time to ward her off, though I don't get the chance to cut her.

"Xapt! Jesus!" Saigun grabs her before she could make contact.

"She pulled a gun on us!" she growls with an evil glare. Her eyes flash, and I notice they’re gold. "Ain't nobody gon' pull _shit_ on my fam'ly!"

"We can just tell her, it's fine!"

"Tell me what?!" I demand, my knife at the ready. Slixer stands up and takes Xapt's hand, looks into her eyes, and tugs her away from me. As soon as she's calmed, I see those golden eyes turn mahogany, _just like the cat's._

Saigun sighs and looks at me like he thinks I think he's crazy.

"We're...weird," he tells me.

"Yeah, no shit!" I yell. "You're acting weird right now!"

"Well, it runs deeper than that." He sighs again and runs his hands over his scalp, as if fortifying himself. "What...what do you know about the Supernatural?"

"I've heard it was a trashy TV show," I shoot, then I stop. "Wait...are you guys--"

"Vampires?" he finishes with a chuckle. "No, but we're in that realm."

"I was gonna say something along the lines of 'batshit insane,'" I say. "Vampires aren't real."

"Well, nobody thought we was gonna get hit with fungus-zombies and lookit what happened," Xapt points out.

" _Anyways,”_ Saigun interjects, “no, we're not vampires, but they're real, and probably trying to survive just like the rest of us."

"Bullshit."

"It's not, actually."

Saigun moves his hand, and I shoot my knife over to stab him if he tries anything, but he puts his hands up in a peaceful gesture to show that they're empty, though I don't drop my guard. He holds out his palm, and a small flame appears in the center, flickering like a heartbeat.

"Wh--"

"I'm a phoenix's soul in a human body," he explains, "older than half the civilizations around the globe even before Outbreak Day. Xapt's an animal mimic, and Slixer is clairvoyant."

I take a step back. "You're--no, this is bullshit, you have a lighter somewhere--"

Saigun _does_ pull a lighter out of his pocket and tosses it to me. "It's empty," he says as I try to light it. The spark flies, but no flame. I shake it, hold it up to the light, and find that he’s right; there’s no oil in the canister.

“...Okay, fine, so say I buy into your shit,” I say as I toss it back. The flame disperses as he catches it and tucks it away. “I’ve...actually, I have nothing. You guys are just...magicians.”

Xapt snorts and stretches. “‘Kay, fine, I’ll show off.” She gets on all fours, and her body twitches. I can see her bones poke around beneath her skin, which is sickening to watch even though I’ve seen worse. Her snow-white hair grows longer, and sprouts all over her arms, covering her clothing in the process. Before I know it, a very familiar white cat sits pretty in the firelight. She preens herself by licking her paw nonchalantly and rubbing it over her ear.

“...Okay, I give. I can’t explain that, but in no way can someone predict the future,” I say in disbelief.

Slixer writes something in her journal, walks over to me, and holds it up for me to read again. Beneath their names are two words that make my heart stop.

_“You’re immune.”_

I take another step back. “Wh--”

“Okay, she isn’t _exactly_ clairvoyant,” Saigun explains, “ but she can see things that other people can’t. Some small future things, but she can read the past, too. She saw yours plain on your face the moment you walked up.”

 _That explains the thousand-yard stare, I suppose,_ I think. The cat takes a stance, and I see the bones writhe beneath her fur again as she reverts back to her human form.

“Man, still uncomfy as hell,” she complains.

“...I...okay, fuck it. Sure, vampires exist and you guys aren’t human,” I concede. Slixer jots something down in her journal and shows me her writing again.

_“I’m completely human, actually. My siblings are just semi-human. We can all be killed, but we’d prefer not to, in case you wanted to add, “Supernatural hunter,” to your skillset.”_

She gives me a sweet smile. Not demeaning sweet; a genuine endearing smile like a child would give. It’s friendly and accepting. I finally lower my guard.

“Are we ready to eat now?” Saigun asks. “I’m famished.”

“Well, I _was_ in the middle’a preppin’ the food, but then someone got a li’l trigger-happy.” Xapt shoots me a look as she sits back where she had been originally and goes back to skinning her...I guess “prey” is a more adept word now. I fetch the gun she knocked from my hand and sit by them all, still trying to settle into this whole “Supernatural” business.

“...So, Florida, huh?” I ask awkwardly, finding nothing else to really talk about that isn’t, _“So, you guys are really weird, huh? How’d that happen?”_. “Lookin’ to sweat your balls off or something?”

“Got family down there,” Saigun explains. “Xapt’s half-brother -- same dad, he took his mom’s last name, in case that comes up -- and his husband and kid.”

“So you guys are from Florida?”

“It’s...complicated. Slixer’s dad was an abusive piece of shit. Our mom tried to get us out of the state and we moved to Aspirations to get away from all that. That was back when everything was still...relatively functional. Xapt was still a baby.”

“How old _are_ you guys?” I ask. “Wait, lemme guess: it’s complicated.”

Saigun chuckles. “It’s rude to ask someone their age, y’know,” he says with mirth in his eyes. “But I’m about thirty-two -- in this cycle, anyways. Slixer is twenty-seven, and Xapt...you’re twenty, right?”

“‘Bout there, yeah. Maybe. Time isn’t real when ya don’t have a phone’re calendar ta keep track.”

“I’m like twenty also,” I remark. “Maybe even twenty-one now.”

“Cool, we can have our first drink t’gether.”

“No drinking,” Saigun says, dashing our dreams. “Not while we’re on the road. We have to keep sharp. If-- _when_ we hit the QZ, we can get something and celebrate our reunion together.”

Slixer signs something, and Xapt snorts a laugh.

“What’s she saying?” I ask.

“She just said she’ll be the designated driver,” Saigun translates. That makes me laugh, too. I can’t imagine someone so small behind the wheel of a car.

“Anyways, I’m heading to DC,” I tell them. “Parts of me still hopes the capital is up and running. I think...I _might_ tell them I’m immune and see if...if maybe I can be of some good to the world.”

Slixer gives me a knowing look, but it’s only a flash of one. She probably knows what I’ll choose when the time comes.

We eventually get the rabbit on the fire, along with a couple rats. It smells great as it smokes.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had rat before,” I comment.

“It ain’t bad,” Xapt says. “It ain’t particularly good, though, jus’ sayin’. But we take what we can get.”

“Is it weird, eating something you can turn into?”

“Not really. It’s about as much as eatin’ another human.”

I feel queasy when I hear that. “You’ve--”

“Not intentionally.” Saigun is quick to jump in. “We ran into a group back in Nevada. They gave us shelter, fed us...and only after we ate did we find out they had killed one of their eldery folk and stewed her. We got out of dodge in the middle of the night...but not without raiding their supplies,” he adds with a smug tone. “They had other food too that they…’paired’ with their meals. And water, of course.”

“Wow, I’m glad I didn’t come across those. I mean, I’ve heard of them but...wow. Sounds like an actual cult. ‘The Worshippers of the Flesh,’ or something like that.”

“They called their capital, “The Temple of Bodies’,” Xapt tells me, “an’ it was made’a actual human bones. Their weapons, too, though can’t blame ‘em; femurs are sturdy as _hell._ ”

“You’ve...used one?”

“Well, sometimes ya gotta use the leg’uva dead Infected ta club ‘nother’un ta death.”

“Definitely not my weapon of choice, but desperate times…”

Slixer started signing something. Saigun translates again.

“Slix says we should travel together, since D.C. is about the same direction, and it’d be awkward to say goodbye and then walk in the same direction.”

I laugh. “Yeah, I think I can stick around for maybe a few days.”

Slixer beams. The food is ready, and we eat and talk as if we’d known each other for years. It was so _nice_ to finally speak with someone again after being alone so long, and especially with good people. That sense of running into someone genuine only grows more in certainty the longer I’m with them. They have a good bond with each other; Saigun is like the father figure, Slixer the kindly sister, and Xapt their unruly foul-mouthed uncle. I didn’t even notice the sun go down.

“I’ll take first watch,” Saigun volunteers. “It’s been quiet lately, but you never know.”

“Go ta bed, ya did it last night an’ didn’t even sleep t’day,” Xapt jeers. “I got it!”

Slixer signs something.

“But I got the super ears!”

She signs again. Xapt sighs.

“‘Kay, fine. No use arguin’ with ya, anyways.”

The raven-haired woman stands up and moves a little aways from the group. I guess that means she’s taking first watch.

“Are we leaving in the morning?” I ask.

“Not for another day or two. This is to recuperate for a month without proper rest,” Saigun explains. “Gather supplies, hunt--” he gestures to Xapt “--stuff like that.”

“Well, don’t shy away from asking me to help. We’re a team now, I guess.”

“Of course.”

The night is cooler now. The heat from the fire is actually nice now without the sun heating the building from the outside. I lay down with the others and watch it flicker until I drift off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Since I have no idea how long this is going to take, I'm just gonna plug my shit in here and let it rot in developmental hell for seven years before eventually being cancelled.
> 
> Twitter is @marstonland and if you like my writing you should check out my self-published short stories on lulu.com and also leave reviews maybe please if you like or don't like them but I hope you dooooo <3


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